


Breathe 2 A.M. (Hiraeth)

by FangirlintheForest



Series: Breathe: 2AM [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Legion of Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlintheForest/pseuds/FangirlintheForest
Summary: "He thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts." - S.K.Set at the end of the Season 2 finale, we find out what happens when Mon-El goes through the portal, and his subsequent adventures, self-discovery, and trials in the 30th Century.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for you all to finally be reading this! Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> The only thing I kept from the show past the end of the S2 Finale is Brainy. He's too good to get rid of. I was not pleased with how they represented and wrote the Legion of Superheroes on the show, so I've done extensive research and put together my own modern rendition of the Legion characters incorporating as much as I can from the comics without cheesiness or sacrificing good storytelling.
> 
> I have put my absolute heart into these characters and this story and I hope you enjoy Hiraeth as much as I have enjoyed writing it. :)

**PROLOGUE**

His cape billows around him as he stares out over the city nestled underneath the starry night sky. He closes his eyes, feeling the breeze caress his face and listening to the sounds around him. The noises of the city are familiar, but not quite enough. They are a mere echo of what he remembers. This....this is too foreign.

It’s been sixteen months, sixteen long months and he hates it because the memories from Earth- from _ home, _ are fading. Little things, like the sound of cars passing by at night, or the taste of the pancakes Ka-

He immediately shuts down that line of thought. He can’t allow himself to go there, not when he has a job to do. Not while he’s Valor.

His gaze turns lower as he absentmindedly twists the golden ring on his right hand. Crouching down, he leaps off the side of the building into open air. He spreads his arms, feeling the rush of air through his fingers and the clench in his gut.

He waits until the last second, closing his eyes, before activating the Flight Ring and propelling himself out of his freefall.

He soars above the city for a few minutes, breathing in the air, enjoying the sensation of openness around him before directing himself straight into the atmosphere. The clouds are wet and he can feel a quick intense pressure before…

Nothing.

It’s quiet. But, that’s just how space is: silence that goes on forever. He would know. He had spent plenty of time there with just him and a necklace, reminding him of everything he had lost.

The hulking mass of a space station floats in the distance and he turns slightly to the left, following its orbit path. 

The Legion Outpost had been by far one of the most impressive things he had ever seen when he first arrived. But, after months and months of being holed up inside of it, it had lost its original grandeur very quickly.

Near the bottom of the ship, a circular portal opens at his approach, revealing an entrance to the Outpost. He glides toward it smoothly, and drops down to his feet as soon as he enters the little room.

The sound of the bay doors hisses behind him and the all-too familiar sound of the airlock clicks into place as the doors slide close. Another shiny door in front of him retracts into the ceiling, revealing a long spotless white corridor.

He sighs, taking in his first breath of the recycled air. 

_ Home sweet home. _

Moments later he has his hand on the scanner that unlocks his room. The scanner’s light travels down his hand, recognizing him and unlocks the door. It slides away to the left revealing an all-too familiar sight: his room.

He’s left it bare on purpose, aside from the basic furnishings. No pictures or personal items. He’s not staying. Not for long.

But how long has he been telling himself that now?

The white walls, floor and ceiling of the room are the same as the corridor right outside. Impersonal. Blank. The bed is white and so are the sheets, and the little table he has set up near his closet to the left of the door is the same.

As soon as the portal behind him closes, he strips out of his suit, not even bothering to pick up the clothing as he drops it to the floor on his way to the shower.

The small standing space is lodged in the wall straight ahead and the frosted glass moves to the side as he approaches, allowing him in. 

He presses the familiar order of buttons on the control pad and steam immediately rises as water appears. He leans into the wall with one hand, bracing himself up as the water pours over his head. He just stays like that for a minute, losing himself in the sensation and letting his thoughts float away.

Eventually, he grabs a bar of soap from the ledge to his right and scrubs himself down. It’s one of the little things he holds onto from Earth. 

Here, things are different. The shower has multiple settings that allow for soap, fragrances water, and vast other settings at the user’s discrepancy. He settles on a bar of soap because it keeps his thoughts where they should be. Earth, 2017. The 21st Century.

He’s a lot farther from home than he ever thought he would be.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**CHAPTER I**

If there had been any way for Mon-El to steer away from the portal instantly he would have. Better to float away into a part of space that was familiar than go into a portal that leads to somewhere unknown.

But of course, he was too close to get away from it as soon as it opened. The swirling light envelopes his ship almost immediately. The spacecraft starts to shake and jolt and he can barely see outside the glass. He braces himself, hands against the walls of the spacecraft and squeezing his eyes shut as another shudder runs down the frame. Golden hair comes to the forefront of his mind. If this is his last thought, he doesn't mind. He wants it to be of her. 

As quickly as they came, the shudders stop, and outside the spacecraft it becomes clear and he can see again.

His eyes blink open and shock runs through his frame.

The familiar sight of Earth’s moon is to his right, and in front of him is Earth….._ home _.

He lets out a bark of laughter in disbelief. He’s safe. He can pilot the ship to somewhere safe. Somewhere he can wait.

He quickly puts his hand on the lever that controls the thrusters and pushes it forward….and nothing.

A sliver of panic makes its way from the back of his mind as the ship stays completely still. He starts pressing a few of the controls, and still no response. His motions become frantic, and his breathing becomes hitched as the panic fully sets in.

With one last loud smash against the controls he stops. 

He’s stuck. 

He may just end up starving to death instead. If that’s how it’s going to end, he wishes he had just stayed with Kara and died on Earth, no matter how painful it would have been.

He slumps back into his seat. Earth is so close, _ Kara _ is so close. And yet, for more than one reason he can’t be there. He can’t see her.

Rao, how did all the right things go so wrong so quickly? He runs a hand down his face, fighting back the raging emotions in his chest and stifling a sob.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, waiting, praying for a miracle.

The miracle doesn’t come for another nine days, three hours, and forty-six seconds.

He’s sitting there, half awake and drifting in and out of consciousness. He’s come to the conclusion it’s only because of his Daxamite lineage that he’s survived this long without food or water. His breathing becomes shallow, and he struggles to take in a breath. It was only going to be so long before his ship gave out too.

If there was enough air, he would have laughed at the irony of it all. Instead he lets his eyes close as a bright white light engulfs his ship.

* * *

His eyes open.

White. Everything is white.

Is he dead?

He almost wishes he was dead.

He lays there for what seems like an eternity before he starts feeling again.

His body is truly at the brink, and especially now while lying on what he thinks is a floor, he can tell how weak he really is. His breath rattles through his chest. His feeble, aching muscles send dull throbs of pain through his system and his mouth is drier than the deserts of Koshahm. 

How did he get here? And why?

He’s about to close his eyes again, but a door he failed to notice opens in front of him, and a woman steps out.

She’s wearing all white, from her pants to her turtleneck and blazer. The only color is a shock of bright pink painted on her nails, and a golden necklace dangling from her neck that matches the tone of her hair. It flashes in the artificial light from the ceiling and he can make out the shape of the pendant on the end, a simple depiction of the planet Saturn.

She stops as soon as the door shuts behind her. She says nothing, reaching behind her and pulls out two white medical gloves. She puts them on, brushing a blonde curtain of bangs off her cheeks with a free hand. And when she pulls out the syringe from the inside of her blazer, she has his full attention.

He uses up every last bit of strength he has left to try and crawl away from her. She smiles sweetly at him, walking forward like nothing is wrong as he scrambles across the floor, making little progress.

“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt one bit,” she says in a high-toned voice while crouching down to his level and gently grasping his forearm. She smiles sincerely and all he can think in his weak state as she shoves the needle in his arm and his eyes begin to close is that her bubblegum-tinted lip gloss would look so much better on Kara.

* * *

_Beep…….. Beep……... Beep………. Beep……… _

“I told you it would work,”

“It’s temporary, Imra, don’t get too smug. Brainiac is still looking into another formula,”

“All the same, I still made one first.” It’s the woman from earlier and her smug tone reaches Mon-El in his semi-conscious state. “But I still don’t understand why we had to save him. Not that I mind, he sure is handsome.”

“You never were good at History, were you?” the second voice says sarcastically.

“Well, we all can’t have overbearing mothers that insist upon a perfect education, now can we Tinya?”

He hears a faint sniff of disdain, from...Tinya? Did he know a Tinya at the DEO?

“Oh don’t be mad, we all have our stories, don’t we?”

A small sigh from Tinya. “I guess we do.”

He hears footsteps coming closer and a hand touches his shoulder carefully.

“But him? He’ll have the greatest story of all of us.”

The air is silent for a moment except for the faint beeping of a machine.

“We should leave him for now, Tinya, he needs to rest.”

The hand leaves his shoulder. “Yes, we should go meet with the others. We have much to discuss.”

The feet leave his bedside and he can hear both women leave the room, the smooth sound of a door opening and closing heralding their exit.

His head is spinning, from both what he had heard and whatever that woman- Imra? -injected him with.

He lets the grey fog of his mind pull him back under.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the Legion!!!! And don't worry, I'm keeping the show's version of Brainy. Everyone else is fair game *smirks*

He can feel himself returning to full consciousness this time, indicated by the absence of grey fog in his mind.

Slowly opening his eyes, he finds himself in a reclined position on a soft cot. He tries to move his arms, but a dull aching pain causes him to immediately stop. Carefully tilting his head to the side he blinks, looking down and seeing tubes connecting into his veins, and all sorts of wires leading off of his limbs. He can hear the faint beeping of before, and the sound quickly grates at his nerves.

He tugs at his right arm, pulling against the resistance of the intricate tubing and after a few minutes they're looser he can reach his other arm.

The beeping from another monitor is getting faster, faster, faster and in a rash decision, he takes his more mobile hand and rips the tubes and wires out of his other arm. 

His head thumps back against the pillows as he grits his teeth, holding back a scream. They were deeper and much more painful than he thought. He has no other choice now but to rip the rest out.

With his newly freed arm he clutches the tubes and wires of his other hand. He sucks in a few quick breaths before bracing himself and yanking again, letting out a yelp of pain this time. Thankfully, the beeping has stopped.

He tries to sit up, but is immediately met with resistance, and when he looks down he sees the straps wrapping around him that attach to the bed. He gathers his strength for a second, then sits up with all the force he can muster.The bands break loose, clanging against the side of the bed as he breaks free. As he sits up and gets off the bed, he notices all the medical equipment surrounding him. It faintly reminds him of the DEO… but different. Off in a way he can't quite place.

A chill runs up his back, and he goes to pull down the sleeves of his DEO-issued shirt, but instead touches bare skin. He looks down to see his clothes are gone, and instead in their place is a light hospital gown.

“You’ve GOT to be kidding me!”

Now fully awake, he spies a set of double doors in front of him and he angrily marches toward them, walking through as they slide open. If this is the DEO’s idea of a practical joke, it’s not funny. Not in the slightest.

The spotless and smooth white hall in front of him ends a few yards ahead with a sturdy, secure looking door, while to his left another corridor branches out. Mon-El sees the edge of a window peeking out from the left corridor and he knows what to do.

He’s not sure what makes him go so slow at first. Maybe deep down he already knew what he would find. That, or it's just the natural trepidation that comes with being in an unknown environment. Either way, his feet barely make any noise on the smooth floor as he slowly approaches the window.

As soon as he steps into the left hallway and the view through the window becomes clear, he freezes and his heart drops.

He’s not on Earth.

He’s orbiting it.

* * *

He stumbles back in shock, taking a few steps back and hitting the adjacent wall with a bang. His breath is coming heavily now, and he closes his eyes and concentrates on slowing it down. The needle marks on his arms ache with sharp pulses. He needs to find someone, anyone, who can explain what the hell is going on.

As his breathing slows, he turns back to this new corridor and decides to take his chances. What are the odds of not running into someone at this point?

He walks quietly, but with purpose this time through the hall as the passageway veers to the right. Windows line this hallway too, spaced out evenly and allowing a clear view of Earth. He stumbles through the hallway, glancing at the familiar planet as the windows rush by.

Another corridor appears to his left and he quickly turns down it, picking up his pace. Doors line this hallway on both sides instead of windows and he slams into one trying to get through but the door doesn’t open like the rest. He slams his fist, making a dent but it still doesn’t budge. He breathes in frustration before striding to the next visible door down the hall and slammi-

This door opens and he stumbles through, balance thrown completely off. As he slowly looks up, five pairs of eyes meet his.

He looks around and tries to find anything familiar about the people in front of him, but comes up empty. Quickly catching the familiar sight of the golden necklace from before on one of them, his gaze travels upward to meet the eyes of the blonde woman from before.

“You,” He shifts slightly back on instinct.

“Hey handsome,” she smiles at him warmly.

“Where am I?” 

She seemingly opens her mouth to reply when one of the other people in the room cuts her off with warning in his voice. “Imra…”

She tilts her head at a man in a leather jacket and crosses her arms over her chest. “Excuse me, Thom?”

“I'm sorry, but what is he even doing out of Medical? Wasn't he just dying?” Thom steps forward gesturing at Mon-El and giving her a disbelieving look. “We know _ nothing _ about this man! We can't just-”

“I hope you are aware of the consequences if you continue talking,” A concise voice flows from the right, and Mon-El turns to see a short figure with white hair and...pale blue skin? Piercing eyes stare across the room. In all his travels from his life back on Daxam, Mon-El has never seen anyone like this. 

“Look,” Mon-El stands up, trying to ignore how his arms protest. “I don't care _ who _ you people are. All I need to know is where the _ hell _ I am!”

An uncomfortable silence floods the room and the man named Thom looks like he could punch something. Mon-El figures he’s not used to being spoken to that way. Little does Thom know he's talking to a former Prince.

“Be cautious of what you reveal,” the figure to the right repeats as the silence stretches on. He looks around at the rest of the people in the room. “The timeline takes precedence over anyone’s personal feelings regarding this matter.”

“I don’t care about your damn timeline,” Mon-El shoots back. “I want to know where I am so I can go home.”

On the other side of the room, Thom and Imra exchange looks, along with a couple others who Mon-El notices haven’t said anything yet.

Something doesn’t feel right about the situation. By the way everyone in the room is avoiding his questions, he suspects the answers won’t be a good ones. The panicked feeling from before starts to make a reappearance and he’s sure that they can hear his heartbeat pick up even without super hearing.

He swallows heavily. “Please.”

“Just tell him already, he deserves to know.” He recognizes her voice immediately from the med bay. He looks over to the left side of the room to see a girl with bright green eyes and black hair past her bare shoulders leaning against a counter top, arms folded and a bored aura about her.

“Tinya, you’re not helping,” The man called Thom sounds possibly more annoyed than before, but this Tinya seems completely disinterested.

“Shut up Thom, you're not in charge here. Oh wait,” she says dryly, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve already been over that.”

Mon-El watches as Thom stalks with a low growl toward Tinya.

She smirks and shoots him a wink.

He lunges for her, but as his hands make contact (or should make contact) they fall right through instead and he hits the counter behind her with a loud bang. Thom swears loudly, stumbling back and clutching his left hand. Mon-El stares in shock at the girl. 

_ What the hell... _

“ENOUGH,” This voice sounds slightly younger to Mon-El, but rings through the commotion with authority. All eyes snap to the front of the room. This man is tall, around Mon-El's height. Lithe but with an underlying tone of muscle, young but with a stance full of confidence.

"Garth, you're ruining all the fun,” Tinya cocks her head with another smirk, this time with much less venom. Mon-El notices the distinct glare Thom throws her from a distance.

“You've had your fun, Tinya.” Garth replies firmly.

Her expression returns to unreadable as she nods. 

“Thom,” the two men make eye contact. “Take a walk. And bind that hand while you're at it.” Thom stands utterly still for a few long seconds, never breaking eye contact before taking a few steps backwards and turning, stalking out of the room.

It's quiet and kind of awkward for a moment, at least for Mon-El. He moves his hand toward the aching crease of his left arm, trying to make as little noise as possible. 

The man named Garth turns toward him with a slight smile. “Well, with that out of the way I guess we should introduce ourselves.”

He walks straight up to Mon-El, hand extended. Mon-El tentatively reaches out his free hand in return and they shake.

“Garth Ranzz. Welcome to the Outpost.”


	3. Chapter 3

Garth sends Tinya out to grab clothes for him, and Mon-El feels a little more comfortable when he sees her approach with a bundle of garments in her arms.

She directs him out the door into a small, dark room that he immediately sees is a storage closet. He can hear her impatient shuffling outside the door while he unties the hospital gown and swiftly pulls on the black shirt and pants. He half-wishes for his DEO-issued clothes as he wads up the gown in his fists, opening the door.

Her impatience greets him as soon as he steps out of the closet. He puts the balled-up gown in her hands as he walks by her, patting her on the back. “Thanks.”

He enters the lab-like room for the second time and actually takes a good look around. The counter top that lines the edges of the room is covered in all sorts of clean and full equipment. In the middle, an operating table of sorts dominates the space, complete with the big round light hanging from above and everything.

Tinya steps inside and throws his gown unceremoniously onto a part of the counter with empty test tubes, causing a loud tinkling of glass.

“So what are we going to do with him?” She raises an expectant eyebrow at Garth.

He raises his eyebrows right back at her, crossing his arms and stepping forward nonchalantly. “Well, Tinya, what do you  _ think _ we should do with him?” 

Mon-El immediately picks up on their light banter and smiles. He likes this guy.

“This guy has a name, by the way,” Mon-El raises his hand, looking around and smiling, trying to inject some more light-heartedness into the tense situation. He gets a slight smile from Imra that she tries to hide by turning away. 

Garth openly snorts and smiles in amusement and turns to Mon-El. “I think you and I can be friends.”

Mon-El nods at him and flashes a brief smile, but it fades quickly. “Okay but really, what are you going to do with me? Are you going to let me go?”

For the first time since he’s met him, Garth’s confident demeanor cracks. His face falls slightly, barely noticeable to the naked eye while his posture shifts.

Mon-El looks around the room at the others and then back at him. “Well?”

“The timeline…” The short man in the corner intones again.

Garth points at him without looking, shaking a finger and sighing. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Mon-El frowns. “Okay, why does he keep talking about timelines? I thought that only had to do with speedsters.”

Garth actually chuckles. “Buddy, if only it were that simple. And no, time travel isn't exclusive to Metahumans.”

He stops and clasps his hands together “You're not in the 21st Century.”

_ What? _

“Okay...well then where am I? What's going on?!” Mon-El can feel his breaking point being reached. Honestly, he’s surprised he's kept a calm demeanor for this long.

“30th Century, Earth. Well, orbiting Earth actually. But...details.” Garth waves a hand. “And that's pretty lucky for you because of your Lead allergy. Imra figured it out during testing after we pulled you out of your spacecraft, then Brainiac tested the atmosphere. I bet you can guess what he found.”

“It's still there?” Mon-El finds himself asking automatically, voice hollow. “How long has it been?”

“Roughly a thousand years, give or take.” Mon-El turns away in shock, running a hand down his face. Tinya actually looks slightly sympathetic as she watches him, leaning back against the counter once again.

He can feel his heart pounding like it wants to escape out of his chest and he doesn't even care if the shock is visibly on his face. His vision suddenly tunnels and he stumbles backwards as the room goes sideways. He leans heavily on the table in the middle of the room as his legs back into it.

He can feel the tightness of panic beginning…again. He wants it to stop. He wants  _ everything _ to stop.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, shaking his head at Garth as he bolts out of the room, tears blinding his vision. He doesn't care where he goes.

He runs, dodging through endless hallways before finally darting through a door and stopping in the middle of what seems to be an untouched bedroom. The door slides shut behind him and he collapses, crawling over into a corner and pulling his legs up to his chest.

He looks up, trying to will the tears away but seconds later hot streams make their way down his cheeks as he finally gives in and sobs.

In his chest is an empty space where hope used to be.

* * *

After the tears are gone he closes his aching eyes and curls up on the floor. If anyone is looking for him he hopes they don't find him. Escape sounds good, even if it's just for a little while.

He made a call. He saved Earth at a steep cost just to end up here and be told that he's not even in the right  _ time _ to get back to home.

It's crushing. He can feel the weight of it pushing against his chest, the familiar sensation of panic simmering beneath the surface, ready to escape at any moment.

He lays in the complete silence trying to calm his racing mind with only the underlying hum of the ship for company. 

At least until he hears the footsteps.

The giggling starts as he sits up quickly, catching the glimpse of a figure pulling away and disappearing from around the doorway. He scrambles up, and almost falls over as a familiar shadow on the hallway wall moves to the right.

“Kara?!”

He bolts out of the room, catching another glimpse of golden blonde hair as she turns down a hallway to the left, yards in front of him.

He darts down the hall, sliding a bit on the smooth floor as he changes directions too quickly. He manages to keep his balance as he sees her shadow disappearing again to the right at the end of this hall.  Why is she running from him?

"KARA!"

He picks up speed, slowing down around this corner, and stops suddenly- almost plowing into a different blonde figure running in the opposite direction. She throws her hands up in front of her and jerks backward, narrowly avoiding a potential disaster.

“Mon-El!”

“Imra?”

She looks him up and down with concern, taking in his heaving chest and wild eyes.

“Where’ve you been, handsome? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He completely ignores her and grabs her shoulders to rotate her gently out of the way so he can see down the hall. It's silent, except for his labored breathing.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are trained down the hall. “Yeah,” He’s too distracted to notice how strange and breathless he sounds.

After listening in silence, it's apparent that whatever he saw is gone and he turns back to Imra trying to keep the confusion and disappointment off his face. With a huge effort he mentally pulls himself back into the present and concentrates on the worried woman in front of him.

“I was- I foun- ...There was an empty room.” He trails off, chest still heaving. Her frown doesn't budge and he feels like he needs to say more under her concerned gaze. “...I couldn't find my way back.” He finishes lamely. She probably thinks he's insane and is going to tell everyone about his maniacal run through the halls.

She surprises him by grabbing his arm and gently pulling him back the way she came. “Let's just get you back, okay?”

She and Kara would have been friends. At least, that's what he concludes as they walk in silence down the empty halls. She takes a few turns and he follows behind without thinking. He doesn't want to think.

They round another corner and Thom comes into view. He’s wrapping a long bandage around his hand and Mon-El can see the discoloration even from where he is.

Thom looks up at them as they approach, surprised for a brief moment before his face goes blank.

Mon-El half expects him to murder them right then and there in the hallway with the look he's giving them, but they pass by unscathed. He doesn't even make a snide comment.

They keep walking, but the silence is now uncomfortable.

“I'm sorry about him. He’s always been a….

“A douchebag?” Mon-El throws out the term he's only heard a few times.

He can see her processing for a moment, her head tilted slightly. “..an obsolete term, but I guess you could say that. But don't let him hear you. In all seriousness he can be quite dangerous. He has... anger management problems, is easily irritated, and has little patience to spare.”

“I…picked up on that.” He smiles wryly. “With the whole hitting-the-counter with Tinya’s disappearing act- hey, what was with that by the way?”

She stops in front of a door looking down while she considers his question. He realizes it’s the door to the lab from earlier. Imra puts a hand on it and the door doesn't slide up like it should. The action is probably keeping it in place. He files away the information for later.

She raises her head slowly and makes confident eye contact with a coy smirk.

“I think you know. ” One eyebrow goes up and so does the door as she removes her hand and walks inside without waiting.

Considering her answer, he vaguely wonders what her powers are and if  _ she's _ the one he should be afraid of. He takes a deep breath and follows after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers and more questions..... a lot of things for our favorite Daxamite to ponder. Let me know what you think! As always, thanks for stopping by reading! :D


	4. Chapter 4

“Ah, good! You're back.” Garth immediately greets him as he walks back into the now-empty brightly lit room. “We should probably discuss how we're going to handle this little situation.”

“You mean what you're going to do with me?”

“Precisely.”

Garth walks over to a rolling stool on the far side of the now-empty lab, sitting down and waving Mon-El over.

“I want you to understand that I have to be very careful about what I say to you,” he begins as Mon-El pulls over another seat and settles into the foam cushion. “I wasn't lying to you about what I said earlier, but I probably should have been more delicate about it. Let's start over.”

Mon-El gives Garth a wry smile. “Are you talking about what you said about orbiting Earth right now? No, I believe you.” He remembers very clearly his scramble through the halls and the sight of the stars through the Outpost windows.

Garth smiles back but it lacks something. “I don't doubt it. But I was actually referring to the date.”

Mon-El feels nothing. “You mean about the whole thirtieth century thing?” He snorts without meaning to.

Garth leans back a little. “Yes. And it's 3005, if you want to get technical about it.”

Mon-El would love to look into his eyes and see that he's lying, but  _ grife _ … He can tell that Garth is telling the truth.

“If... _ if _ I were to believe that, I assume making sure I don’t mess with time is why you can’t tell me anything.”

Garth nods. “Exactly.” He shifts around on the stool. “Mon-El, you being here has already messed with the timeline. You're not supposed to be here, and trust me, we understand. You want to go home. I'm presuming you have someone or people you care about and who care about you to get back to. We want that too, but we're going to need time. Time, and information that you can give us. If you cooperate, we can work on getting you home quickly.”

Mon-El can sense the sincerity in his tone and he is almost certain now that Garth is in charge here, and for good reason. He strikes Mon-El as an open, genuine person trying to do the right thing. 

Mon-El nods slowly. “What exactly are you going to need from me?”

“Information about when exactly you left. We only know so much from records and you're going to be our most accurate source. If we're going to send you home, we have to make sure it's at the right time. Otherwise we could-”

“Let me guess...Disrupt the timeline even more?” he raises a brow and Garth looks like he's trying not to laugh.

“Yes, that. Another reason we can't tell you much, since we're returning you to the past from the future. The less you know the better.”

Mon-El shrugs at that. “Fair enough,”

Garth runs a hand absently through his hair. “Another thing we- Imra, discovered was your apparent allergy to lead.”

That pulls an instant grimace from Mon-El. At the very mention of the substance he can feel the tightness and pain in his chest, a ghost of his sacrifice.

“Apparently it's a Daxamite thing. Lucky me,” he says with a sarcastic tone. “It's why I was near the portal in the first place.”

Garth nods, and Mon-El can see him putting that information away.

“We've known the remnants of lead from that...  _ particular _ battle have been in the air forever, like I said, but that would explain why you were in space near the portal when it opened.”

“And you said Imra discovered it?” He inquires. He doesn’t want to talk about the portal or his experience in space.

Garth nods back with a proud smile growing on his face. “Yes, Imra is our resident scientist along with Brainy. She was the one who created the serum you're currently taking to counter the lead we found in your system.” He points to Mon-El's arm where the raised but quickly healing marks of the tubes he had pulled out sat.

Mon-El's eyes widen at that and he feels a prickle in his chest. "Can they cure me?” He sits up a little straighter.

“Brainiac is working on a more permanent solution. He's taking over the research.”

Mon-El lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A permanent solution. They're going to help. They're going to help him.

“We're also going to give you full access to your ship for repairs,” Garth continues with no prompting. “Well.. whatever's left of it. It took a beating from what we could see and you'll more than likely have to replace most of it. We can help with that and I'll make sure you get shown to the hangar.”

Mon-El leans back a little, taking a moment to process. He feels a bit overwhelmed, going over and over the information he’s just been given. After a minute, he focuses back on Garth. “Who are you people?”

Tinya makes a noise behind him and he turns around to see Garth shoot her a look as her mouth opens to respond. She quiets, throwing Garth a displeased stare before walking out the door.

Garth turns his attention back to Mon-El. “We’re people who want to help.”

Mon-El is too spent to pry anymore, though part of him wants to. There's more to this place than meets the eye and knows he’s missing some important pieces of information. Digging will have to wait but is definitely up there on his to-do list.

“You've had a long day, let's get you to a room- your room.” Garth smiles again at him, a vision of friendliness and comfort.

As Mon-El stands and the doors to the lab open revealing Brainiac Five. He pulls himself out of the seat and starts walking over to the door.

"Wait,” Garth’s voice causes him to turn back around. “There is one last thing before you go,”

The men make eye contact again. “We can't let you leave the Outpost.” Garth almost looks uncomfortable.

“What?”

“You can't leave. We can't run the risk of the timeline being compromised from anything you do, or anything you learn and may take back to the past.”

Mon-El didn't feel trapped before, but he sure does now.

He finds himself nodding at Garth anyway, too tired to protest. He follows Brainiac as he starts gliding down the hallway, leaving the lab behind.

Stuck in his head, Garth's conversation replays over and over as they travel through hallway after hallway. Thankfully, Brainiac doesn't attempt to make any sort of conversation.

Just ahead of him, Brainiac stops near a door. He steps aside from Mon-El and it opens at the Daxamite’s approach.  It’s the same room from earlier, the one he collapsed in. Now there's a bed and a plain table inside. These people are organized. Maybe he should tell Garth when he sees him next.

He doesn't even pause for a second before walking in. Brainiac says nothing as the door closes in front of him, cutting him off from the overwhelmed Daxamite. Mon-El walks straight to the bed and collapses on the white down comforter in front of him.

Sleep finds him quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one for ya, but we've got some bigger chapters coming up! Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate!


End file.
